


Training Goes Both Ways

by Morgyn Leri (morgynleri)



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Highlander
Genre: Crossover, GFY, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-08
Updated: 2012-12-08
Packaged: 2017-11-20 15:47:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/587020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morgynleri/pseuds/Morgyn%20Leri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Oz first met him in the dim light of a blues bar, the young werewolf wasn't certain what he wanted out of he encounter, beyond a nameless fuck. He certainly didn't expect anything particularly memorable, or to find himself hesitating outside the same bar again the next night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Training Goes Both Ways

When Oz first met him in the dim light of a blues bar, the young werewolf wasn't certain what he wanted out of he encounter, beyond a nameless fuck. He certainly didn't expect anything particularly memorable, or to find himself hesitating outside the same bar again the next night.

He didn't see the man as he stepped inside, but that doesn't mean he won't be here tonight. Oz settled in a corner of the bar, listening to the musician on the stage as he kept a close eye on the door for the man with hazel eyes he can't forget.

* * *

Methos could feel someone watching him as he stepped into Joe's bar, settling at his usual table as he scanned the room for the source of the stare. He raised a curious eyebrow when he saw the young mortal he'd encountered the night before.

Smirking slightly to himself, he ordered a beer, waiting for the boy to make his move. Curious why he'd come back, when he had struck Methos as the sort to move on without looking back.

If he was wrong, he certainly thought the mortal might be interesting, and worth the time to coax into something more.

* * *

It wasn't Oz's hotel room this time, but a small and comfortable flat in a quiet neighborhood. Belonging to a man who called himself Adam, though Oz was certain that wasn't his real name. What his real name was didn't matter, when he could make Oz forget his own name.

It was morning when he left, with Adam quietly telling him that he'd be at that same bar in the evening. He was sure there would be more to this than that. When he arrived, with the sun setting in a blaze of color, he didn't hesitate to go in.

* * *

He'd told the mortal the name he went by the night before, and he had seen the dubious look. If he was going to tell him more, there would have to be rules of some sort. Something more lasting than this.

Leaning against the bar, he watched the door, nursing a glass of beer, and confusing Joe. He hadn't waited for anyone since Alexa, and if the young man showed up, this would be the third night in a row.

He wasn't concerned he wouldn't, and a knowing smirk curled his lips as the door opened on a familiar face.

* * *

This time, there were rules laid out. To protect them both, Adam said, and Oz thought they were more for Adam's protection than his, but he didn't give that voice. Curious about what would happen, what this man was that he hid his name behind another, and waited for a man he barely knew at a bar.

There was beer and talking until the wee hours of the morning that night, with details carefully horded on both sides. Oz thought Adam sounded like he'd lived history, and he was certain he'd let slip that demons were real for his part.

* * *

Oz's certainty that demons existed made Methos wary, though the mortal certainly didn't give the impression of being crazy, as MacLeod had done when fighting Ahriman. It was at least something.

It was more interesting that he didn't object to any of the rules that Methos had laid out, merely nodded and gone along with them. Like someone accustomed to rules made to protect other people. There was something curious about that, and he made a mental note to dig deeper into the mortal's past.

Knowledge was a tool, after all, and one Methos was accustomed to the use of.

* * *

Rules were only the first step, and Oz didn't push the limits yet. There was a knowing gleam in Adam's eyes that told him when he did, he would be exacting in his response. What that response would be, he didn't know until he tried.

There was no pain involved. Or, rather, there was no physical pain inflicted. A lack of attention where he was becoming accustomed to regard, that cut deeper than a knife. It wasn't the pain of knowing that Willow wasn't his, but it was enough.

Enough to turn his eyes inhuman, and Adam to look surprised.

* * *

Now Methos understood Oz's certainty that demons and the supernatural existed, as he watched his eyes change color, and features briefly seem to blur before it all faded back to normal. Perhaps the lack of affection wasn't the best way to curb the urge to break the rules.

Pain, though, wasn't something he wanted to use - the effectiveness of it was limited, and he wasn't the sort of man he'd been three thousand years ago, to enjoy inflicting it. And rewarding behavior that was desired only went so far. Perhaps, though, further with Oz than it would with someone else.

* * *

The cuffs made him raise an eyebrow, and Adam merely gave him the enigmatic smile he had down better than anyone else Oz had met. Except, perhaps, a vampire, and Adam certainly wasn't one of those.

The leather was soft, though, and snug around his wrists. The backs were stamped with a script he recognized, even if he couldn't read the words. He didn't even have a chance to ask before Adam was telling him, in a voice that made him shiver a moment, what the words meant.

It was, however, the price of knowing he'd never be left behind.

* * *

The cuffs seemed to settle Oz, and there wasn't a repeat of the strange incident with the wavering humanity when Methos left him alone for a day or two when he broke a rule. Or perhaps it was that he made sure that there was a futon in the bedroom for banishing him from Methos' bed.

It was still curious, and Methos still wondered, but he had time, and he didn't push Oz to explain. That he always vanished the nights around the full moon, never saying where he was going, explained quite a bit, without him saying a word.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted 10 December 2008 in rounds_of_kink on LiveJournal.


End file.
